


Falling Asleep In Your Arms

by FievreAlgide



Category: French Revolution RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Historical, M/M, Thermidor, pre-Thermidor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FievreAlgide/pseuds/FievreAlgide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...Saint-Just wondered why his friend had stopped and was now looking at him with worried eyes..."</p>
<p>Robespierre and Saint-Just are making out in the latter’s apartment, but there's a (symbolic, ominous, foreshadowing) fly annoying Saint-Just.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Asleep In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by estellacat (LJ)/montagnarde1793 (Tumblr).
> 
> Originally posted on Livejournal on October 28, 2006.

_Never had I seen him so enthusiastic. So ardent and resolute… no, never. Did you miss me? Your lips tell me you did. Were you so alone? It feels so strange to look at you above me. It is so strange to feel you this way between my legs. I seem powerless… but I’m so exhausted. Your kisses are so slow now. I want to fall asleep in your arms. Will you stay tonight? I feel your fingers all over me, your head buried in my neck. Your right hand caress one of my thighs; I feel your touch burning through my clothes. Remove them. I’ll remove yours. I need to roll over you… but not yet. I can’t. The pressure of your body against mine… I want to remember it forever…_

Saint-Just’s eyes opened. A buzzing noise annoyed him, flickering next to his ear. There was a fly on the ceiling of his apartment. Flying left. Flying right. Flying down. Flying up. Disappearing and coming back. The window _was_ open, but it didn’t want to leave. It seemed to refuse.

There was this impossible heat. There was Robespierre. There was this fly.

Saint-Just shut his eyes tightly, his senses made hazy by the wet moaning against his throat.

The fly was still there. He could hear it. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but its buzzing.

No way to reach peace and happiness, even for ten minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Robespierre asked. “Your body is so tense suddenly. Did I hurt you?”

Saint-Just looked up at him. Oh, how he loved these eyes, even if Maxime could see almost nothing without his spectacles. “Of course not.”

They smiled to each other.

Robespierre pulled up the shirt, kissing the younger man’s body. He was sweating. They both were. Saint-Just stroked Maxime’s damp hair. He didn’t want to move anymore. He wished he could fall asleep. He would, if there wasn’t this buzzing.

The fly went too far, or rather, too close; it landed on his pillow.

Saint-Just couldn’t catch it.

Something drove him mad. It was there, harassing his mind, always coming back. Like that fly.

“Are you all right?” Maxime’s voice was the softest sound on Earth. It could chase all the nightmares. Saint-Just wondered why his friend had stopped and was now looking at him with worried eyes.

Saint-Just suddenly realized that it wasn’t sweat wetting his cheeks, but tears.

“Mon Maxime.”

“Oui?”

“I’m afraid.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

Saint-Just looked up at the fly; he could see it on the table in the middle of the room. An eternity passed before he answered.

“You know of what.”

Maxime looked down. Saint-Just had stopped staring at him for some time already.

“Should I leave?”

“No. Never leave. Stay with me. _S’il-te-plaît._ ”

Robespierre moved in the bed, next to his friend, embracing him closely, despite that crushing heat. Saint-Just’s eyes were fixed on the fly, as it finally found a way out of its captivity.

_Sometimes, I’d like to fly…_

 

-Fin-


End file.
